


ought to be near her

by lamborghinimercy



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Constipation, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, HI FIRST TIME POSTING WRITING EVER, Hugging, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Prime Dumbassery, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, also cuddling, but does anyone ever......, cursing, idk what im doing, no
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2019-11-07 10:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17958932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamborghinimercy/pseuds/lamborghinimercy
Summary: Y/N is a touchy person.She had grown up in a household where physical affection was an everyday part of life: kisses on the cheek or forehead when someone was leaving for work or school, her mom pulling her into her side with one arm as she was cooking something in the kitchen, hugging her sisters when she damn well felt like it.Y/N was definitely very aware of how touchy she was, because she suffered basically every single day because of it.in which Y/N just wants a Very Platonic cuddle buddy, and Feelings™ ensue





	1. Chapter 1

Y/N is a touchy person.

She had grown up in a household where physical affection was an everyday part of life: kisses on the cheek or forehead when someone was leaving for work or school, her mom pulling her into her side with one arm as she was cooking something in the kitchen, hugging her sisters when she damn well felt like it.

Y/N was definitely very aware of how touchy she was, because she suffered basically every single day because of it.

Moving into the Avengers’ compound in upstate New York wasn’t easy for her. Her parents were beyond furious that she had moved across the country, far away from them and all of her sisters and cousins and aunties and uncles. (Y/N wasn’t that fond of that either.)

The food definitely wasn’t as good in New York, especially in the predominantly white part of New York that Y/N was currently living in (she wanted actual Laotian food, not just shitty “fusion” Asian food, god DAMN it), and she had to give up medical school in California because Tony Stark and a large portion of the federal government was insistent on honing her powers ever since she had acquired them in The Freak Chemical Accident™, or whatever.

Another reason why she was growing more and more discontent with her current living situation is that she wasn’t being hugged. And it was fucking with her brain a little bit.

She didn’t know these people, it’s not like she could burrow into their side like she always did with her mom. She couldn’t casually play with her sisters’ hair as they all laid in a giant three-person dog pile on the couch, heckling trashy K-dramas but crying when clichéd stuff happened anyways.

Also, she was kind of afraid that if she touched any one of these superheroes, even if it was fleeting or light, that they would judo-throw her over their shoulder and smash her into the floor. And then she would die, and then she would haunt the Avengers compound forever.

Never let it be said that she didn’t have a creative imagination.

Y/N needed a hug, and for someone to play with her hair, and the need was only getting worse the more she got to know people on the team — specifically, one James Buchanan Barnes. Who was sweet, and smart, and never failed to smile at her, but was always a little guarded — until she started feeling comfortable enough to crack jokes at Sam’s expense. Bucky became really fucking funny overnight, constantly whispering jokes in her ear and making weird faces behind Steve’s back to try and make her laugh.

He was absurdly into reading, and he was so curious about everything — he basically lived in the library, reading anything he could get his hands on a wide array of topics, and would ask Y/N millions of questions about everything he could whenever Y/N wandered in (which was more frequent these days since she had “accidentally” memorized his unofficial official schedule).

He was also pleasing to look at.

Very.

Bluntly put, Bucky was hot. Steve knew. Tony knew, even though he probably wouldn’t ever admit it. Even Sam talked about it all the time, constantly calling him “pretty boy” or the “hottest defrosted Russian fossil since they dug up that frozen wooly mammoth in Siberia”, much to Bucky’s chagrin. Everyone knew. Doctor Ueda, a shriveled raisin of a woman who was 80 years old and STILL worked in the medical wing, knew he was hot. And she was probably legally blind with some of the thickest coke-bottle lenses Y/N had ever seen, and was somehow still miraculously alive after living through the dinosaurs’ extinction and the Black Death (conjecture…but you never know. Asian women are basically immortal). Babies probably knew how hot Bucky was, and they didn’t even have object permanence.

And of course, Y/N, who caught herself staring at Bucky’s arms and thighs and shoulders and neck and oh god his HANDS more often than not, _definitely_ knew (and NO, she had never, ever pictured those thick arms wrapping around her in a tight hug, warm on one side and cool on the other — she had TOTALLY never thought about it).

And she absolutely hated it. Because it was literally driving her insane.

But anyways, back to the main point. Y/N just needed to be hugged for about an hour, and she couldn’t exactly get that here. So she was just minding her own business, trying to find a way to cleanse herself of this manic energy that had suddenly possessed her over the past few days. Which meant, essentially, that she was stress baking, mostly because she just needed a fucking HUG.

And apparently, her brain thought baked goods could replace hugs. And she was right. Kind of.

So far she had made lemon bars, banana bread, and two different kinds of cookies (snickerdoodle, and double-chocolate espresso), and was working on making some vegan cinnamon rolls because she literally had no self-control, and Wanda was vegan now and Y/N didn’t want her to feel left out. And also, living in a compound owned by one of the richest people in the world meant she had constant access to whatever baking supplies she needed, so, honestly, it was Tony’s fault. He was her enabler.

She was quietly singing along to Gladys Knight and the Pips as she researched different places to get weighted blankets on her laptop while the dough proofed, when the light for the dining area flicked on.

She froze like a deer in headlights for a split second, and screamed, grabbing her empty wine bottle and holding it like a baseball bat.

She couldn’t see the person’s face, but she could their large (and muscular) frame. And everyone was large and muscular here, so honestly, her guess was as good as any.

For context, it was four in the morning. And she had streaks of flour on her face from continually trying to push her hair behind her ear, and flour all over her shirt. And she was also still drunk, probably from the whole bottle of self-pity wine she had bought herself and consumed in its entirety earlier.

“Jesus Christ, what are you _doing_?”

“Bucky, are you trying to fucking KILL me?” Y/N breathed, resting her hand on her chest, inadvertently leaving a flour handprint above her heart. “Sweet Jesus. I almost had an aneurysm. God, you’re too sneaky. Should put a bell on you, or something.”

“Y/N, I feel like we are at the point that you should know that it is literally my job to be as sneaky as possible.”

“Well, JAMES, I have the hearing of an 84-year-old grandpa, and I am drunk, so shut up.”

“Y/N, what are you doing.”

Y/N just shrugged and gestured to all the baked goods, slapping her hand back down on the counter. “This.” She sighed. “This is what I’m doing. Want some banana bread? Or a cookie? Or a lemon bar?” She took a double-chocolate espresso cookie, and broke it in half, nibbling on it as she contemplated the spread in front of her, and held out the other half for him.

Bucky smiled, shaking his head. “Just came out here for some water, and I already brushed my teeth.”

Y/N just nodded, swallowing hard, partly because she was exhausted, partly because Bucky wasn’t wearing a shirt that actually fit him like a normal human being (he had learned from the best — Steve had probably stolen some of her shirts at this point, she assumed. She should introduce Steve to crop tops). She suddenly also felt the urge to drink a large glass of water. Maybe a whole bucket of water. A whole bathtub full of water. Completely unrelated to the taut muscles hiding under a thin layer of sweat-wicking fabric.

She was just a little thirsty.

She also had no fucking idea how to deal with her frankly annoying need for affection, and the burgeoning feelings (yes, _those_ kind) for the man standing in front of her. Wearing tight clothing that made all his muscles bulge in all the right ways. At four in the morning, smiling at her with mussed hair and sleepy eyes.

God, she wanted to kiss him so bad. Or have him crush her to death in his arms, or something along those lines so she didn’t have to deal with liking him so much.

So she turned back to the cinnamon roll dough, slopping it onto the counter, and punched it down and kneaded it a little more aggressively than she needed to.

“Whoa, what’d that dough ever do to you?” Bucky chuckled, gulping down some water. “Piss in your cornflakes?”

“No self-respecting person that has a personality actually eats cornflakes, Bucky. That’s just you. Also, they were literally created to try and prevent masturbation,” Y/N said easily, as she rolled the dough out with her empty wine bottle, relishing the surprised strangled, choking noise and subsequent spill of water on the tile it elicited from Bucky. “You know I’m a saucy, fruity Froot Loops bitch.”

Bucky just laughed, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “Don’t knock cornflakes. They’re nutritious, unlike the trash you eat.”

“I’m not going to listen to anyone who actually eats egg whites and enjoys them,” Y/N snarked, and Bucky just sidled up to her. Y/N had to consciously regulate her breathing so it sounded normal as they brushed shoulders, and she could smell his body wash (coconut — the one she gave him from that family friend of hers that made shampoo and stuff like that in Northern California). If she had to keep this up for too long, she might have to casually sprint away to get her inhaler.

“Need anything?” he asked softly.

_Touch me._

Y/N just smiled, and shook her head, sprinkling a generous amount of brown sugar over the buttered (margarined, technically, since this was vegan) dough, then a metric fuckton of cinnamon.

“Nah, I might catch a half-hour of sleep while I let this bake, if my mind will shut off,” Y/N mumbled.

“What’s on your mind?” Bucky asked. “I’ve been told that the broody, stoic type makes a great listener.” He smirked at Y/N, who rolled her eyes.

“Nothing too crazy. Just trying to find out which weighted blanket I want to buy,” Y/N replied, shrugging. “They’re all super expensive, though. Trying to figure out if I should take out my left or right kidney. Or maybe a generous chunk of liver. What do you think? Which non-essential organ should go?”

Bucky furrowed his brow, squinting as he looked over Y/N’s shoulder to look at her laptop screen, and Y/N had to resist the urge to scream, feeling the warmth of his body so close to hers and knowing she would never bring herself to do anything about it.

“What the fuck does a weighted blanket do?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, again. “What does it sound like, genius?”

“Fuck off. You know what I mean. What is it for?”

“Apparently, it’s good for anxiety and stress and stuff. It’s supposed to feel like a giant hug,” Y/N said, humming a little. “Sounds nice, right?”

“Sounds nice until you realize that it’s essentially a $300 hug,” Bucky muttered.

“I know, but desperate times call for desperate measures,” Y/N breathed.

Bucky turned his body to fully face Y/N, who looked at him from the corner of her eyes as she rolled the dough. Y/N didn’t like the contemplative look on his face.

“What,” she deadpanned, narrowing her eyes. She held up the knife she was going to use to slice the log into rolls, threatening, “If you make fun of me, I’ll kill you.”

A smile spread across Bucky’s face. “Doll, if you wanted a hug so bad, you could have just come to me.”

Y/N felt her heart stop a little bit, and knew that her silence was a pause longer than normal — most of the time, witty, acerbic responses flew off the tongue as naturally as breathing. Maybe it was the nickname that threw her off. Instead she said, a little more quiet and hesitant than normal, but with some forced levity, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Bucky just laughed out loud. “What does that even mean?"

Y/N sighed, setting down the knife. "I’m a touchy person. At home, I hug everyone constantly. I come out of nowhere, and hug people for no reason.” She sighed, picking up the knife again and slicing the log of dough, both of them falling silent for a little bit. Y/N snuck a look at Bucky, who was looking at her with something soft and affectionate in his eyes, and she tipped her head down so her hair would fall in her face and obscure her heated cheeks. “My family gets kind of annoyed with it sometimes. I don’t want you to get annoyed by me.”

Bucky scoffed a little, under his breath. Y/N raised her eyebrows.

“Y/N, I could never be annoyed by you.”

Y/N’s heart stopped. And then she recovered, because if there was anything she was good at, it was disguising vulnerability with humor. Or anger. Or both.

“You literally said I was ‘the most annoying person on the planet’ yesterday when I wouldn’t answer your gossipy little inquiries into Sam’s love life when I PINKY-PROMISED him, and then you took it back, and then said that I was the 'most annoying person on MULTIPLE planets, and that you had a spreadsheet to back it up,’” Y/N said indignantly, and Bucky just laughed out loud, and before Y/N could blink, Bucky was pulling her into his chest.

Her first thought: so warm. He was literally built like a furnace. Her second thought: it was kind of exactly like she thought it would be with the whole warm body/cool prosthetic contrast, but at least a thousand times better. He smelled like coconut and MAN, which is not a sentence she thought she would ever say, but it was true. And she was enjoying it.

His arms tightened around her when his head rested on hers, and Y/N felt simultaneously relieved and also incredibly alarmed because 1) this was the hug she needed, and 2) she would probably end up craving hugs even MORE after this.

She had no idea what to say because there were no words to describe the sheer, warm joy, and the fluttering fear and humanness she felt, so she just shoved her face in his chest and let her arms slide up and around his waist.

“Gonna suffocate yourself in my boobs?” Bucky asked casually, his voice rumbling through her, and Y/N burst out laughing, pulling back, only to have him jokingly shove her face back in his chest.

Y/N fell silent, pressing her forehead against his sternum, and listened to his breathing.

“Planning on letting go anytime soon?” Bucky asked.

“No,” Y/N mumbled into his chest, and she felt more than heard him laugh.

They swayed a little.

“Good,” Bucky said, his hand holding the back of her head, and Y/N could literally feel the stress melting away from her body. “Just text me anytime you want a hug. Or just tell me in person.”

Y/N pulled back, proffering her right hand. He shook it, laughing at her sudden formality, and Y/N said simply, “It’s a deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a long, long day.

She wasn't even out on a mission or training heavily or anything like that. It had just been so hard to get out of bed in the morning, and even when she did, she couldn't stay focused on her tasks or motivate herself to finish them. And she hated that feeling. And she felt even more stupid because her day didn't even have a lot going on, and she had no reason to be stressed or upset.

And then her sister Facetimed her, and then had started crying about how much she missed Y/N, and it took all of the strength in Y/N's body not to fling herself into the closest quinjet and fly back to California that instant.

It didn't matter that she didn't know how to fly it and would probably crash the thing. She was so close to doing it, she didn't care at this point.

She missed home, she was emotionally exhausted, and she wanted to go to bed, but caving and taking a depression nap would only serve to make her even more depressed. Even Vision, a floating gemstone robot man (god, her life was so fucking weird) noticed how down she was. So she sequestered herself in the library, trying to avoid spreading her negative attitude to others.

The thing is, Y/N literally craved being around other people. She was fine with being alone, but she was also painfully extroverted if she was around the right people.

So now she was curled up in her unofficial official corner of the couch, rolled into a blanket burrito and watching the Great British Bake-Off trying to stave off a mental breakdown. Unsuccessfully, judging by how she started crying when Nadiya finally won Star Baker for the first time and tearfully talked about how proud her family would be, and how excited she was to see them.

She reached for her phone, and texted Bucky.

Y/N had been kind of reluctant to actually take him up on his offer for hugs. She didn't want to scare him off, and as a result, she had barely even sat next to him on the couch or in meetings or whatever. She hadn't even so much as touched him ever since they hugged in the kitchen at four in the morning, when she was still kind of drunk and a little delirious from exhaustion. But she needed it, and one would be fine, right?

_hi_

She held her breath when the bubbles popped up, indicating that he was typing.

**coming**

She let out a breath, and kept watching, warmth settling in her chest at the realization that he already knew where to go, and more importantly, what she needed. She was still bundled up when he walked in, gently shutting the door behind him, and she immediately started fighting her way out of the massive amount of blanket she'd wrapped herself in.

"C'mere," he said finally, and Y/N padded her way to him and let her arms slide up and around his neck and essentially glued herself to him. They were swaying back and forth a little, Y/N's face buried in his neck so all she can smell is coconut and Bucky. "What's going on?"

Y/N knew that if she tried to talk she'd start crying again, so she just groaned into his neck instead.

"Super descriptive. Thank you for that," Bucky joked, his voice still gentle, and Y/N managed to huff out a laugh. "Take your time."

His hand rubbed soothing circles on her back, and she felt another hand tangling with the hair on the back of her neck. She pressed closer, exhaling, feeling the knots in her stomach loosen slightly.

"Just missing home." Y/N sighed. "Miss my sisters and my mom a lot," she murmured.

Bucky hummed in response, resting his head on hers briefly before pulling back and kissing her forehead.

Y/N almost combusted at something so stupidly innocent. Warmth spread through her whole body, and it also kind of felt like the first drop of a rollercoaster at the same time.

She didn't really know how to communicate that to him and she wasn't really sure if she wanted him to know that just yet or maybe ever (nothing like bottling up all of your feelings — am I right or am I right, #ladeez?), so she just butted her head against his sternum.

"C'mon. I know you'll feel better if you're around everyone else," Bucky said, pulling away, only to tug at her hand. Y/N tilted her head up to look at him, her smile spreading even wider across her face. "What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing," Y/N lied, shaking her head, but still smiling at him.

He knew her so well, and it had been such a relatively short amount of time. It had been, what, almost a year now since she'd moved here? Since she'd met him? And she was already falling for him, when normally she was only fully comfortable with someone if she had known them for probably at least twenty years, give or take a month.

"One more hug for the road," Bucky quipped, and pulled her into a hug, lifting her off her feet. Y/N screeched in response, dissolving into delighted giggles as he spun her around.

Their shoulders brushed as they walked back into the kitchen together, Bucky crowded into her space as she shoved pad kee mao in her mouth and he reached for more of the tom yum in front of Sam.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sam snapped, and Bucky just rolled his eyes.

"I like soup, okay?" Bucky said, dumping some onto his rice.

"You sound like an old fart," Y/N added helpfully, and Bucky accusingly pointed his chopsticks at her, and she grinned around a mouthful of rice noodles. Bucky just plunged his chopsticks into her noodles instead, and Y/N yelped, "Don't take my tofu, you fucking asshole!"

"I'm an old man that needs the protein," he mumbled, lowering one large noodle slowly into his mouth. "My muscles will surely atrophy if I don't steal your tofu."

"You're such a drama queen," Sam said, "Man, this bitch took basically all my shrimp." Leveled a withering glare at Bucky, who just rolled his eyes.

"Who are you calling a drama queen, Sam? There's, like, three shrimp left in there," Bucky protested, and Y/N just hit her hip against his. He looked down at her with a shit-eating grin with this softness in his eyes that she couldn't describe, and their shoulders brushed.

She felt better now.

* * *

 

"Did you hear Steve and Bucky earlier?" Wanda muttered to Y/N under her breath, shaking her head as she ate a spoonful of some weird avocado-tofu-carob pudding. Because, you know, veganism. "Awful."

Y/N nodded, sighing. It wasn't just them who had heard Steve and Bucky's screaming match earlier — it was everyone. People that lived in within a ten-mile radius probably heard it because it was just that bad. They had been fighting because Bucky had been reckless on a mission (surprise, surprise!) and had taken a little longer to recover than was initially expected, and it seemed like every day that passed, Steve was more and more tense.

It had finally boiled over. And now Steve was off running twenty miles somewhere, and Bucky was probably crushing concrete with his bare hands or throwing axes in the woods because he didn't like people seeing when he had to vent his anger.

"I see where they're both coming from," Y/N said, and stirred her spoon in her bowl of cereal that had long been soggy at this point, trying to avoid clinking the spoon against the sides. Like she didn't want to disturb this tenuous silence. "I know that injuries like that come with the job, but — " Y/N fell silent, not really wanting to finish her sentence.

"But," Wanda said. "Yeah."

"Yeah," Y/N agreed, feeling more than a little miserable. She hated it when Bucky was upset, because he would always get so withdrawn — and she knew that he got lonely easily, even though he was used to being the Lone Wolf™. She didn't want him to hurt when he didn't have to. And, yes, her disliking when he was all withdrawn like this was a little selfish, because she loved spending time with him. And she was used to it.

She would never tell him, but she wholeheartedly agreed with Steve.

Y/N never wanted to see him hurt again.

She would never forget the sight of one of her favorite people in the world (shhh, don't tell anyone) on a gurney, his skin turning blue, blood dribbling out of his mouth and fear and pain in his eyes as he helplessly wheezed. The sounds coming from his mouth as he tried to breathe and the rapid beeping from the heart monitor made her want to just collapse in on herself. It was only when he was passed out with pain and exhaustion and in the Cradle's hands, that she sat down at the side of the Cradle and cried.

"He's probably in the gym by now," Wanda said, then hummed around another mouthful of pudding. "You should go talk to him. You're good at calming him down."

Y/N raised her eyebrows disbelievingly. They were close, but Y/N didn't want to assume that they were _that_ close. Even if he knew exactly what she wanted or needed with just a glance, and Sam constantly yelled at them to "stop talking to each other with your eyes, DAMN IT."

Even if it felt like sometimes her heart beat in his chest, and his in hers.

"He's lighter around you," Wanda continued, ignoring Y/N's silent dismissal. "A lot more dumb jokes. You make him happy."

Y/N just shook her head again.

The memory of Bucky's blood-covered hand clutching onto hers, rasping for her to tell Steve that he loved him, to tell Tony that he was so, so sorry, to tell Shuri he was so thankful for all she had done for him, to tell Peter that he was a smart kid who would go far, just in case — it was too much. The way he kept repeating her name, over and over again in the moments before he lost consciousness, like it was an apology and a prayer at the same time.

"God, you're a fucking idiot. Just go talk to him so he doesn't get all broody. You know how he gets," Wanda said, pointing her spoon at Y/N, and Y/N rolled her eyes and pushed herself off of the barstool.

"Fine. But can you make that butternut squash soup sometime soon? It's haunted my dreams for the past two weeks since you made it, and I want to inject it directly into my bloodstream," Y/N said.

"Sure thing," Wanda replied, smiling. "See, vegan food isn't all bad!"

"I _know_ it's not. Those vegan cinnamon rolls I made for you were bomb. But you're also willingly eating avocado-tofu pudding, and you eat shit like BEETS, which taste like lightly-sweetened _dirt_ , by the way — "

"OH MY GOD. Go talk to Bucky. RIGHT now, or I'm going to launch this pudding at your head," Wanda said, exasperated, her spoon clattering on the counter, and Y/N sprinted away, giggling as Wanda mimed chucking her bowl of pudding at her.

As she walked to the gym, she could hear him beating up the punching bag down the long, long hallway. She sighed, her feet slapping against the ground as she finally got to the gym, and took in the sight before her: Bucky's sweaty back, his hair tied into a sloppy bun with one of HER favorite yellow scrunchies (he always broke the junky elastics he used when he was angry - at least he didn't use rubber bands anymore, the idiot), and no less than three destroyed punching bags laying on the floor next to the weight rack.

He stopped. She knew that he probably recognized the cadence of her footsteps, because he could always, always tell when it was her that was trying to sneak up on him.

He didn't turn around.

He was never really good at dealing with his emotions. Y/N had assumed that he definitely gotten better over the time that he spent in the compound before she got there, but old habits die hard. And sometimes, she could tell when he felt the need to hang onto them, and keep his walls up.

Like right now. Because she knew, that he knew, that she could read him better than anyone, with the exception of Steve. So he wouldn't turn around, because that would mean that Y/N would know everything.

So Y/N just walked up to him and gently wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, accidentally hitting her forehead against the metal part of his shoulder blade with a quiet _donk._

A beat. "Ow," she whispered, and that was all it took for Bucky to burst out laughing.

She could feel the tension melting from his shoulders as he laughed and laughed and laughed, and she pressed her cheek against his shoulder as it shook. His hand eventually moved to lie on top of her hand resting on his spasming stomach, and he clutched her hand as his boisterous laughs petered out into helpless giggles.

"Can you stop laughing at my pain and actually hug me now?" Y/N asked, feigning exasperation, and Bucky finally turned around.

"'M all sweaty, Y/N," he said gently.

Y/N just latched onto him again, and he couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face.

"Don't care," she mumbled. "I need a hug. You need a hug. Sweat's not gonna stop me, Bucky." Her mouth was pressed to the scarred juncture between his metal prosthetic and his shoulder, and her voice was muffled as she said, "Stop stealing my scrunchies."

"Never," Bucky replied easily, resting his head on top of hers.

They fell silent.

"You know how important you are to me, right?" Y/N said, her voice just above a whisper. She didn't move her head. She couldn't look at him.

Bucky cleared his throat, said hoarsely, honestly, "Yes."

"Good," she murmured. "No more stupid shit on missions, okay?"

"No more stupid shit," Bucky agreed, smiling and pressing his nose into her hair.

"Okay."                                                                                                            

Bucky hoped she couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest as they swayed back and forth imperceptibly. She pulled back, her hand lingering on his metal arm, and he couldn't feel the heat of her hand, but he felt the pressure, and something inside him was sighing with relief.

"I'm gonna make my grandma's dumplings, and I want you to try them. So come to the kitchen when you're finished getting your angst out and talking to Steve," she said easily, and Bucky chuckled under his breath softly. "Might wanna take a shower though. Your whole body smells like an armpit."

He laughed out loud this time, whipping his sweat-drenched towel at her as she squealed and ran out of the gym.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay! shit really hit the fan in my personal life and also finals lol thx college but we r BACK!!! come talk to me!!!


	3. Chapter 3

She had fucked up the mission. It was supposed to just be a quick smash and grab, but she gave everyone away when she smashed (ha) the closest window and threw herself out of it in desperation, a HYDRA agent following behind her.

She did it to lead the agent away from Bucky's location. Y'know, essentially sacrificing herself for him, a super platonic thing to do. Very platonic. A thing that friendly friends do.

As soon as she saw the HYDRA logo emblazoned on the uniforms of the men, she thought of the time when he jerked awake from a nightmare in the middle of a nap, and didn't, couldn't bring himself to talk about it, and just left her alone in the library. The dawning horror that washed over her when she caved and finally read his file and saw what they had done to him, what they had made him do, how they had torn him apart over and over again and slapped him back together just enough to barely function.

To function as a weapon. A tool. They gave him arm to carry out an agenda, to be their fist.

It was hard to reconcile what HYDRA molded him into, with the man who would relentlessly make fun of Sam when he so much as breathed, and heckled The Bachelorette with her while slurping noisily from a wine glass filled to the very top with pass-o-guava juice, but took it seriously enough to screech and fling his pillow at Steve from the couch whenever he walked in front of the television.

The man who would hug her like he had all the time in the world, and would talk and talk and talk because he knew she liked to feel his voice vibrating throughout her entire body. Who would grab her hand and put it on his head so she could run her fingers through his hair. Who was comfortable with giving and receiving affection after decades of struggling.

She wouldn't let them get to him. She wouldn't let them touch him.

Bucky had been in the room they had broken into, rifling through a file cabinet looking for hard copies of the files that held the paper trails of HYDRA-aligned politicians, and she had been taking watch in a hallway a little ways away.

As soon as the HYDRA guards turned the corner, she shot one after the other, and inhaled a shuddering breath, sprinting towards the one remaining guard and dodging into the neighboring room when he shot back at her.

There was no choice to make. She had to lead them away from Bucky, to give him a small buffer of time to escape.

Bucky had registered the gunshots, but barely realized what was happening until he saw Y/N's body hurtling towards the ground from three rooms over.

Steve had shot the agent following Y/N out of the window.

Bucky had run to the window, paralyzed as his eyes took in Y/N's crumpled body on the ground two stories below.

"Why did you do that, you _idiot_?" Wanda had hissed at her once they were on their way home in the quinjet. The way she tenderly stabilized Y/N's left ankle belied her true feelings, though.

Steve had shaken his head in disbelief, shooting Y/N a withering look. "What the hell, Y/N? You're normally the least impulsive out of all of us."

Bucky was silent, glaring at her.

Y/N just threw her arm over her face, and then winced in pain when it hit her cuts. She sat up, looking at the floor.

"Give me a suture kit and some isopropyl alcohol," she said icily, and leveled a calm look at Bucky, daring him to say something.

_Say something._

He silently handed her the first aid kit, and she wanted him to scream, to yell, to do anything, but he stayed quiet as she carefully prepped the area to be stitched.

Wanda sighed. "Y/N, are you sure you don't want me to — "

"Did you forget I was in the middle of med school when I got recruited for this godforsaken team?" Y/N said, cleaning her hands to the best of her ability and snapping on some gloves. Just for old time's sake. And sanitation.

Bucky looked away.

_Say something. Say anything._

Muscle memory took over as she stitched up the biggest cut on her thigh, but it didn't miss Bucky's attention that tears were silently streaming down her face the entire time.

Because she gave them away and that they only got a portion of the files they needed, that meant that they knew what they were looking for — and HYDRA would destroy all evidence of the paper trails they were looking for to root out dirty politicians.

She miraculously only had a sprain in her ankle, thanks to whatever weird, still mostly unknown powers that were a result of The Freak Chemical Accident™. A note that Tony had scrawled in her file, in his stereotypical all-caps engineer handwriting read: “BOUNCY? SHE BOUNCES WHEN THROWN FROM HEIGHTS? I DON’T UNDERSTAND” after Thor had yeeted her as part of a “fun experiment!” (she didn’t find it fun, NOT ONE BIT, and she didn’t speak to Thor for two weeks — never let it be said that she wasn’t stubborn as shit). Aside from being covered in cuts, she was fine and knew it would go away soon enough, but it hurt and she hated having Bucky be mad at her.

Y/N tried not to let out a sob as Bucky stormed away from her down the hallway. He had basically sprinted out of the medbay to get away from her, and it was worse because she understood why.

"It's okay," Steve said gently, and readjusted her in his arms. "It's okay."

"No, it's not, Steve," she croaked.

"Y/N, it's gonna be fine," he said soothingly.

Y/N didn't respond, because if she started to talk, she would probably cry, and she didn't believe him. So she just let her head fall back to rest against Steve's shoulder as he carried her to her room after her check-up.

It wasn't okay. It really, really was anything but okay. She screwed the mission up, and she was so mad at herself for it, and she was in pain, and she missed home. If she were home right now, her mom would be sitting on the edge of her bed and running her fingers gently through her hair, talking about nothing and anything to distract Y/N. And her mom would make that tomato-y chicken noodle soup with the oregano that Y/N loved so much, and homemade cinnamon tea.

And Bucky knew that she would give anything, do anything for him. All of her cards were on the table.

She wasn't super into it, especially since he had power-walked away from her to avoid her. Indicating that he wasn't into it.

Cool.

Y/N threw her arm over her eyes and let out a sob as soon as Steve had closed the door behind him.

She propped herself enough to hurriedly grab her headphones and phone, wiping away her tears with a clammy hand, and tried to stifle her crying to the best of her ability.

She took off her pants and whipped them in the corner because she fucking hated wearing pants. It didn't really make her feel better.

She kept her hand clamped over her mouth as her shoulders shook, "Help Me, Rhonda" by the Beach Boys blasting in her ears.

She always listened to the Beach Boys when she was sad. Partly because it was her mom's favorite band, and she missed her mom dancing around the kitchen, partly because some of the songs were just so loving it made her want to die just a tiny bit.

So here she was, now listening to "Wouldn’t It Be Nice", which is possibly the most upbeat song in the world, and crying her eyes out. Because she's a masochist.

Y/N was so preoccupied with her very busy agenda of 1) crying, 2) wanting soup, and 3) feeling sorry for herself that she didn't notice the knock on her door, or her door creaking open.

She finally heard the door shut, and she jackknifed up, immediately snatching the water bottle on her bedstand and hurling it at the intruder without a second thought.

It smashed into the wall and clattered to the floor.

Her target? Bucky, eyes wide, with an ice pack in his hand.

Y/N realized what she must look like: blotchy from crying, covered in cuts, eyes red, wearing headphones that were blasting the Beach Boys at a probably unhealthy volume. Without any pants on. Probably about to commit blunt force trauma on her best friend in this godforsaken place — the one she had maybe/kind of/almost/sort of sacrificed herself for.

"I. Um. Got you an ice pack," Bucky said helpfully.

Bucky had stormed away from her earlier because he was going to get her an ice pack. And another bandage, even though Helen had already wrapped her. Because he was a good fucking person, and he was nice, and wanted to help her, even though he was definitely mad at her and she had screwed up a simple mission.

Y/N burst into tears again.

Bucky was frozen, his eyes widening even more, if that was possible.

"Bucky, just....just go. I know you don't want to be here. I know you're mad at me, you'd be insane not to be," Y/N sniffed miserably, her voice cracking, and she flopped onto her back to stare at the ceiling, anticipating hearing his footsteps and the door shutting behind him.

She heard his footsteps, and her nose crinkled as she tried to hold in another sob.

The bed dipped under his weight as he sat down next to her, and Y/N's eyes flew open.

He held her gaze for a beat, and Y/N turned away, embarrassed.

"Hey. Hey. Look at me," Bucky said.

Y/N opened her eyes.

He lifted his hand, and after hesitating for a second, pushed the hair out of her face.

Y/N stopped breathing.

He wiped away the tears coming from her left eye with his normal hand, and gently thumbed away the tears coming from her other eye with his prosthetic, and Y/N leaned into his touch. Both for her, and for him.

She felt like she was going to combust.

"'M not mad. You scared me, is all," he whispered.

Y/N just swallowed.

"Not every day you see your friend throwing themself out of a window. Followed by a Hydra agent, no less," he said, a small smile spreading across his lips.

Y/N tried not to show how her heart dropped when he said the word "friend". That's right. They're friends. Just friends. Very friendly...friends. Friends.

Except she would jump out of a window and risk getting kidnapped by HYDRA, or even death, for him. And he actually had a note on his phone with a list of things that Y/N had done or said so he could blackmail her later. So. She wasn't so sure it was an even playing field.

But she was okay with being friends. Even if it killed her.

But his levity gives Y/N an excuse to not have to talk about what happened in serious terms. And they could ignore that she basically tried to give her life for his. And Y/N jumped (ha) at the opportunity, cleared her throat and retorted, "I feel that with your circle of friends, that actually happens on a pretty frequent basis. So you should be used to it by now."

Bucky laughed out loud, and replied, grinning, "You're the only one who knows how to French braid my hair the way I like. So my freakout is justified."

"Such a baby," Y/N crooned softly, running a hand through his hair. She smiled as he leaned into it, letting his eyes fall shut and humming as her nails scratched gently against his scalp.

"Nat does it too tight, and Steve does it too loose. And I'm not gonna trust Sam to do anything."

Y/N just smiled as his eyes fluttered a little bit as she massaged his scalp lightly, and she knew that belied her feelings for him more than her throwing herself out of a window did.

Thank god his eyes were closed.

"I know how to braid my own hair, you know," Bucky said lightly, and Y/N froze. "I had to, with my sister." He paused, clearing his throat. "I just like it best when you do it."

His blue eyes stared into hers, and Y/N chewed on her bottom lip as she shakily ran her hand through his hair some more, just humming in response.

Without thinking, he put his left hand on her thigh, and Y/N fleetingly thought about how she's going to go to hell for all the less-than-pure thoughts running through her head.

"Tell me if you need anything, okay?" he said gently, squeezing her thigh absentmindedly, and it made her smile how touch came so much easier to him than it used to. He went to stand, and Y/N's fingers curled around the metal wrist that was still resting on her thigh.

His eyes flickered to their hands, and up to Y/N's eyes, which were expectantly looking at his.

"Stay?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper.

He just wordlessly got into the bed after moving basically all the pillows to form a nest on what Y/N assumed would be his side of the bed, and Y/N was forced to stifle the grin that spread across her face. "I wouldn't be your best cuddle buddy if I didn't, would I?" Bucky retorted, and Y/N laughed out loud, turning to press her face into his chest as he tugged her closer.

"Best? You're the only one I've got," Y/N said easily, trying not to inhale too loudly and give away that she was definitely trying to smell him.

“I still win by default,” Bucky replied.

She hesitated for a moment, then placed her right leg on top of his legs.

He pulled back a little to give her a shit-eating grin.

"You're a little octopus, aren't you?" he said, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm a regular cephalopod. I need to elevate my ankle and you stole all the pillows, you dick," Y/N replied, and Bucky just nodded mockingly, shoving her face into his neck. Her voice was muffled when she added, "Thank god you took a shower before you came in here."

"I smell like roses one hundred percent of the time, you fiend."

Y/N sniffed him, glad she had a cover to actually smell him. "Might want to get your olfactory senses checked if coconuts smell like roses to you."

Y/N fell silent as Bucky pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Glad you're okay," he said gently. Y/N burrowed further into him, painfully aware of the layer between her lips and his collarbones even as her eyes started to flutter shut. "I would only have two pains in my ass if you weren't around."

"You love it, asshole," Y/N mumbled, and within half a minute, was out like a light from the physical and emotional toll of the day.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed quietly when her breathing evened out, his hand curling tighter around her waist.

He slipped into sleep minutes later.

In the morning, Sam gently knocked on the door, and opened it fully expecting to find Y/N awake and ready to complain about not having crutches or an ice pack.

Instead, a certain metal-armed ex-brainwashed assassin was passed out stomach-down and half lying on top of her, his arm banded around her waist and his face in Y/N's neck, and Y/N's hand was resting on the nape of his neck, fingers curled loosely in his hair.

Sam sent the pictures to Y/N. She would neither confirm nor deny that she set one of them as her phone background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COME TALK TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEE


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> emotional constipation time!

_"Glad you're okay," he said gently. Y/N burrowed further into him, painfully aware of the layer between her lips and his collarbones even as her eyes started to flutter shut. "I would only have two pains in my ass if you weren't around."_

_"You love it, asshole," Y/N mumbled, and within half a minute, was out like a light from the physical and emotional toll of the day._

_"Yeah," Bucky agreed quietly when her breathing evened out, his hand curling tighter around her waist._

_He slipped into sleep minutes later._

After that, it was like a floodgate opened. If she thought they were grossly affectionate before without even being in a relationship, she was wrong.

When Bucky was still getting used to being here, being himself before Y/N was there, he woke up when the sky was still dark, fitting in a run with Steve (read: marathon) or Sam (in which case it would be a half-marathon, given Sam’s propensity for complaining), avoiding Tony as much as humanly possible throughout the day even though he was absolutely dying to get a look at the work he was doing in the labs, and going to bed even though he knew he wouldn't sleep.

It had been two — three? — years since he had first moved into the compound, and a year since he had met Y/N, and one thing he rediscovered was that sleeping in was probably his favorite activity.

He would wake up at nine AM when he used to wake up at four-thirty on the dot, and he would curl up wherever the sunlight hit and fall back asleep for another hour or so.

These days, he would get up at eight, trudge over to Y/N's room (which had more sunlight, anyways), and fall back asleep there.

He was not ashamed to say that he slept best when he felt Y/N curled behind him, her leg slung over his hips and her hand resting on his stomach. Her nose pressed into the back of his neck. He wouldn't even take the bait when Sam would tease him for being so clingy with Y/N — maybe at the beginning, he might have been more inclined to be defensive, but now he just shrugged and said, "Can't help it."

Y/N would hug him from behind whenever he was making whatever horribly healthy shit he was eating, and would squeal and run away whenever he tried to make her eat whatever it was — once it was some hemp seed granola ("WEED GRANOLA?!" Y/N had screeched) with coconut yogurt, sometimes it was spirulina-wheatgrass juice. And then he would yell at her, saying, “FOR AN EX-MEDICAL STUDENT, YOU SURE HAVE AN AVERSION TO HEALTHY FOOD!”

To which Y/N would very maturely and succinctly respond with making a fart noise.  

Bucky was always somehow there, crowding into her space and pressing his shoulder against hers. Any time Y/N sat down on a couch, he would materialize out of nowhere so he could lay down with his head on her lap, or he would force her to get up from her corner so he could sit in the corner and she would sit in between his legs, his chest pressed to her back.

Once, Y/N and Bucky were reading in the library, with Y/N absentmindedly tracing patterns on Bucky's thighs as he used her lap as a footrest, both of them absorbed in what they were reading.

Wanda walked in, looking for something, saw them, muttered, "Disgusting," and immediately walked back out.

They looked at each other, shrugged, and then went back to reading.

Y/N had gotten so used to it that she did something that was uncharacteristically stupid — she made an assumption. 

Tony was throwing a party to help finance a scholarship he created for at-risk kids looking to get into MIT, and the night, as Tony stated, would be "filled with hobnobbing, finger food, and booze." Y/N enjoyed at least two of those, and she was newer to this, so she was more excited about it than basically everyone else in the tower.

She was sitting in the cradle of Bucky's powerful thighs as they watched (heckled) the classic movie _Tremors_ , her back to his chest, when she was suddenly reminded of the party happening this weekend, and she slapped his thigh twice.

"Hey, you're going to the fundraiser tomorrow, right?" Y/N asked.

Bucky stiffened behind her, and Y/N held her breath, already preparing herself for the worst. 

"Yeah," he said quietly, "Natasha set me up with some girl. We'll see how it goes."

Despite the fact that her blood had run cold, and the fact that her nerve ending in her body was firing and telling her to _run run run_ , and the fact that suddenly it was harder to breathe, she forced out a quiet chuckle. "I'm sure it'll be fun," Y/N said, and got up from the bed. "You know what? I gotta take a shower and go to bed." 

"Yeah, me too," Bucky said. "Good night." He gave a tight smile as he left her room.

They didn't touch for the next 24 hours after that. 

She was DEFINITELY not moping the three hours before the fundraiser started. She was just...sequestered. In her room. Alone. Watching the Great British Bake-Off. Even though she promised Tony that she would not only go to this event, but help set up, and promised Sam that she would wait to watch GBBO with him.

Speak of the devil.

"I fucking _knew_ I heard the GBBO theme song, you traitorous — are you alright?" Sam said, taking in Y/N sprawled across her bed. Decidedly not dressed, and definitely dead-looking, when just two days ago, she would not stop pestering Tony about letting her help with the event.

"I don't want to go," Y/N said, her voice monotone. 

Sam scoffed. "Bullshit, you've talked everyone's ears off for the past month about this."

"Sam," Y/N rasped, tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't want to go." Her bottom lip trembled, and she covered her face with her hands. Shook her head.

Sam just tugged her up and pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back as she crumpled in his chest.

"You're gonna wash your face, put on that damn dress you spent hours agonizing over, and we are gonna go to this damn event. Even if we're fashionably late," Sam said.

Y/N sniffled, but nodded. She let out a long sigh. "Tonight is going to be fucking awful." 

"Baby girl, I am insulted. With me as your date, you are going to have the best damn time you have ever had while trying to avoid the man you're in love with." Y/N laughed out loud at the absurdity of the situation, not even bothering to deny it, and Sam just smirked at her. "Let's do this thing."

* * *

 

Bucky was admittedly pretty charmed by his date, Bea — she was obviously sweet, and whip-smart, and she was on the same page with him when it came to snobby rich people congregating to talk about how great they are while only donating 0.000001% of their net worth. She was blonde, and beautiful, and would’ve been his type before.

Before. Before HYDRA, before the war, before Y/N.

He pushed the feeling down. Tried to focus on being in the moment — something he had been working on with his therapist. There was no way, no possible way Y/N felt the same. So he had to move on.

They were chatting about something she had been working on recently, looking out over the skyline from one of the top floors of the tower, when Tony slid up next to them.

"Barnes. You seen Y/N?" he said, and Bucky furrowed his brow.

"No?" he said, and Tony rolled his eyes.

"She has been a pain in my ass trying to get me more involved with the planning, and now that it's actually happening, she's nowhere to be found," Tony said snippily. "Would think you would know where she was, or that you'd be with her, but apparently not."

Bucky rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to retort, when Tony held his hand up.

"Whose helicopter is that?" he said, pointing to the helipad. "Looks like mine."

Bucky's eyebrows went into his hairline when he saw Sam hop out of the pilot's seat, grinning from ear to ear. Tony would have Sam's ass for this, and honestly, Bucky was kind of looking forward to it.

Sam jogged around to open the passenger door, and Bucky stopped breathing.

She was wearing a pleated, baby-blue Grecian-style gown with a plunging neckline that whipped around her as the rotors died down, and she laughed as Sam offered his arm to her.

" _There_ she is," Tony said. He shot a smug look at Bucky, who was still frozen, his mouth hanging open just a tiny bit. "Y/N! C'MERE!" 

Both Y/N and Sam whipped their heads over to Tony, and Bucky only wanted to die a little bit as he saw the beginnings of a red-lipped grin spread on Y/N's face, and he wanted to die a lot when Y/N said something that made Sam burst out into a boisterous laugh and wrap his arm around her.

"Hey, Tony," Y/N said. "James," she said, nodding at Bucky, and he swallowed.

"You look incredible," Tony said, and somehow managed to subtly smash his elbow into Bucky's ribs enough to make Bucky grunt.

"I swear to God, I feel like my titties are gonna fall out," Y/N hissed, "I don't know how I let Sam talk me into this dress." Upon looking at Bucky's date, her smile twitched almost imperceptibly — but of course Bucky caught it, and he felt a tidal wave of guilt wash over him that he even let Natasha talk him into this when he'd much rather be here with Y/N as his date. Not that he would ever tell anyone that. Especially Y/N. "God, I feel so rude. I'm Y/N, it's so nice to meet you," she said genially, leaning forward to shake Bea's hand.

"I'm Bea," Bea said easily.

"God, I love the color of that dress on you. The green really brings out your eyes, you look stunning," Y/N gushed, and it was the truth. "Tony, I'm so sorry I didn't help set up — "

"She got very distracted watching the Great British Bake-Off. Without me," Sam said, and shot Y/N a faux-glare. "Traitor."

She smacked a quick kiss to Sam's cheek. Bucky wanted to set himself on fire. 

"It's okay; that’s what Pepper’s minions are for. Go forth and eat the mushroom bruschetta you insisted I get. Along with that one bourbon — " Tony said, snapping his fingers. "God, what is it called?"

"Jefferson's?" Y/N said, excitement seeping into her voice. "Oh my god, if you and Pepper weren't so disgustingly in love, I could kiss you."

"Go, you crazy kids," Tony replied, smiling.

Bucky just barely made out Y/N and Sam whispering about whatever drinking game they had created over his thundering pulse when Tony cut into his internal self-monologue.

He pulled Bucky down and whispered, "You fucked up," then succinctly clapped him on the shoulder. Louder, to both Bea and him, "Have a great night. Feel free to mass consume piña coladas, Barnes, I know they're your favorite."

Bucky was trying his hardest to ignore Y/N. But she was decidedly difficult to ignore.

After getting tipsy with Sam and eating a significant amount of bruschetta, she had flitted over to Tony and had charmed several donors into donating approximately $10,000 more than they initially planned on donating (it was a drop in the bucket for these moneybags anyways), and had scored no less than three separate lunch dates with old women who were just as enchanted with Y/N as he was.

He was pretending he wasn't, though. And he wasn't really doing a good job.

In fact, as he danced with Bea, he was definitely more focused on Y/N's delighted drunk giggling as she danced with Sam.

Sam dipped her, and Y/N screeched and then burst out laughing, slapping Sam's chest.

"You can't dip me when I'm wearing this dress, because you're going to DROP ME, and my boobs will fall out," she hissed jokingly, and Sam eloquently blew a raspberry at her.

“There’s too much tape holding down the fort for that to happen, drama queen,” Sam said, laughing, and Y/N groaned.

“I never should have told you about my boob tape,” she lamented. “Honestly, probably the worst decision of my life. And have I literally given myself water poisoning trying to get skin like Gabrielle Union, so I have data points to pull from, asshole.”

“If you don’t stop bitching,” Sam said, lifting up Y/N in a twirl and delighting in the resulting screech it drew from her, “I’m gonna yeet you out of the window.”

“Can you _please_ stop stealing vocabulary from Parker, you old FART? And I’m not trying to be yote? Yeeted? After what happened last time. Absolutely not.”

"You two are a mess," Steve said as he approached them. "Sam, there's a ‘Claire’ by the bar who asked if you were here?"

Sam's eyes widened. "Steve, we're trading. Y/N, I take back everything I said and you're amazing," he rushed out, and smacked a kiss to Y/N's cheek before speed-walking in the direction of the bar.

Y/N beamed at Steve as her arms went up and around his neck, and they swayed back and forth to "Unforgettable" by Nat King Cole.

"Hi," Y/N sighed, leaning against Steve heavily, letting him do the work. “I’m inebriated.”

"You are. You're drunk. Very drunk," Steve noted. "Any particular reason why?"

"Tony bought the bourbon I wanted, so I'm loading up while I can. It kinda tastes like oranges," Y/N replied. Her hands absentmindedly straightened his bowtie. “You should’ve worn the velvet suit. It makes you look sexy.”

"I appreciate that last comment. Any other reason why you’re drunk? A reason that's across the room and happens to have a metal arm?" Steve said, and Y/N just rolled her eyes.

"We're just friends with benefits." Her eyes widened, and she quickly added, "Non-sexual, cuddly benefits."

Steve laughed out loud, throwing his head back, and Y/N grinned at his delight, even if it was at her expense.

"Do you feel that way?" Steve asked, and Y/N furrowed her brow.

"Feel like what?"

"Like _that_. Towards Bucky."

 "It doesn't matter what I feel. It's my problem, and I'll deal with it accordingly," Y/N responded. This was probably the most truthful she'd been regarding her feelings for Bucky, ever, and it was literally because she was drunk. Kind of a new low, maybe.

"What do you mean, 'it doesn't matter' what you feel?" Steve said, narrowing his eyes. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, and just grabbed his hand, dragging him away from the dance floor and outside to the balcony where she could get some quiet and some fresh air, and swiping a spare bottle of Jefferson's. She would need it for the rest of this conversation.

He leaned against the balcony, giving Y/N an expectant look.

"It's just — " Y/N cut herself, waving her hands around. "Ugh." 

"'It's just ugh'?" Steve reiterated, smiling, and Y/N rolled her eyes, lightly shoving at his shoulder.

"He doesn't see me like that, so it's my problem. I'm not gonna get in the way of his happiness, even if it's someone else. He, more than anyone else, deserves happiness," Y/N said urgently, then sighed. "You're really killing my buzz, Rogers." She sent a pointed look at Steve as she took a swig of bourbon, and he rolled his eyes.

"You deserve happiness too, Y/N," Steve said softly. "And I think you're wrong there."

"It's...whatever," Y/N replied, shrugging. "You've said it yourself, I'm not an impulsive person. I'm satisfied with the way things are right now, and I don't particularly feel like burning bridges just because of some whimsical nonsense idea that he might feel the same, even just a little." She took another healthy swig of bourbon, wincing as it made its way down her throat.

"You're, like, _dumb_ in love with him," Steve said after a pause. "You love him."

"Yeah," Y/N agreed miserably. It was silent, hanging in the air. 

She let out a sob, and Steve immediately grabbed the bottle from her, placing it on the ground next to them, and gathered her in his arms.

She clung to him like a lifeline, and said into his chest, crying, "Oh my god, I'm so _drunk_." She sniffled. "I'm drunk, and I'm crying over a boy like a _stupid person_. Dumb bitch city, population ME."

She felt the chuckle vibrate in Steve's chest.

"It's okay. Want me to take you back to your room?" Steve said.

"I'm probably gonna need a piggyback ride, because I don't trust myself to walk in these stupid heels anymore."

Steve just wordlessly turned around, and Y/N hopped on, giggling as he moved through the crowd and towards the elevator.

Bucky watched from a distance, smiling as his two best friends giggled and readjusted as Y/N slipped off of Steve's back, and Steve swept Y/N into a fireman's carry as Y/N squawked with protest.

He'd find Y/N later. He'd tell her.

It was the easiest and hardest decision he'd ever made, and he felt the anticipation build as the night wound down and he said his goodbyes to Bea, who simply agreed that they'd be better off as friends, and wished him luck. Gave him a meaningful look.

His eyes narrowed as he heard soft music coming from Y/N's room — she hated listening to music with lyrics when she went to sleep.

He opened the door as quietly as he could, and looked inside, just in case she was sleeping and forgot to turn the music off.

She was not.

She was dancing. To "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" by Judy Garland. With Steve, who was currently resting his head on top of Y/N's.

Steve pressed a kiss to Y/N's forehead, and Y/N smiled at him like he had hung the moon.

He soundlessly closed the door and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI SORRY FOR THE DELAY!!! school was A Lot™ and then i was in cuba for the summer WHOOPS LOL but now i'm back!!!!! heheheHEHEHEheHeHEHeHEEHEHEHhEEE!!! also lupita's dress from the oscars in 2014 served as both life and #lewk inspo for this chapter so if u don't have that image permanently seared into ur brain and cry over it daily like i do then just google it so u know what it looks like so u can cry over it too! LUPITA IS SO BEAUTIFUL!!!!! BE MY GIRLFRIEND PLEATHE,,,,,,,,,,, also we love supportive sam and steve encouraging ppl not to be as emotionally constipated. amazing. iconic.

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS MY FIRST TIME POSTING MY WRITING, EVER!!!! uhhhhhHHH idk how this really works ahahahahahaha im nervous but! this is gonna be five parts. i think. also AGAIN i would LOVE to reiterate that i have no idea what the fuck im doing please don’t murder me! anyhoo welcome 2 my youtube channel pls like comment subscribe hehe


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